


One Drink Two Drink Ten

by wonderlandiscrumbling



Series: The Hunter and the Wolf [8]
Category: Fright Night (2011), Underworld (Movies)
Genre: Alcoholism, Comfort, Lucian has worries about dating a mortal, M/M, Peter has a lot of issues, Peter has demons, Worries, addiction issues, doubts, fears, near cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-19 12:03:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22610623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderlandiscrumbling/pseuds/wonderlandiscrumbling
Summary: Sometimes Peter loses track of how many drinks he's had which leads to forgetting where he is after said amount of drinks. Sometimes Lucian sees Peter black out drunk and worries about the future of their romance.
Relationships: Lucian (Underworld)/Peter Vincent
Series: The Hunter and the Wolf [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660111
Comments: 14
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I"m sorry for taking so long to write something, I have a billion ideas but it's hard finding beginnings for them. This isn't exactly one of my ideas, but to a degree it leads into one of them.

It was only supposed to be one drink after the show, but it never took long for one drink to turn into two and then eventually six and soon Peter couldn’t count past ten. He hardly registered where he was, well where he and his current posse were. They’d gone from his rented limousine and somehow ended up at the Hilton. He had a rather striking woman wearing only black lingerie and black stilettos straddling his lap, her red painted lips trailing kisses along his neck, he grabbed her hips wondering if he should pull her closer or shove her off him. 

“I’m taken y’know” He muttered fighting back a moan as she sucked against his skin, she rolled her hips, her crotch rubbing against his obvious erection, she pressed down against him as she smirked against his neck.

“Is she here tonight?”

Peter tightened his grip on her hips, his eyes closed tightly as he fought the urge to just throw her onto the bed and screw her brains out. No, he wasn’t doing that, he was taken, taken for a year now. With a sigh he pushed her away from him, she got up from his lap with a sound of offense that he turn down her very charming advances. 

“Sorry love, but I-I can’t.” He slurred out his apologies as he unsteadily rose from his seat and stumbled towards the hotel room door. 

The old him hated to leave the party behind, hated leaving the cocaine and the gorgeous men and women who would happily worship every inch of his body then forget about his very existence before the sun rose. Still he couldn’t make himself go through with it, even as much as his cock wanted him to go through with it. Once he was in the hallway of the hotel, he smacked the palm of his hand against his forehead. “Idiot” he hissed at himself.

He placed a hand against the wall steadying himself as he headed towards the lift. He’d known that this would happen, it never took all that much for him to fuck things up. He’d never tried really holding down relationships, even with Ginger it hadn’t been exactly exclusive; he’d come back to her with men before and it never bothered him, not too much anyways. This though, what he had with Lucian was so much different, he didn’t want to hurt him, though he supposed in a sense he already had. God he knew that he was going to be pissed off when he finally got home, he nearly considered just sleeping it off in the limo if it was even still in the lobby, he couldn’t quite recall if it were or not. He was too drunk; he knew he was.

Once he was in the lift, he pulled his iPhone out of his pocket and considered texting or calling Lucian. He wasn’t sure what he’d say other than admit that he was so pissed that he couldn’t see straight let alone string together a coherent sentence. He shoved his phone back into his pocket. He closed his eyes and wondered what he’d do once he got home other than collapse on his bed. He thought maybe he could grovel; pretend he was sober and not a worthless piece of shit. He rubbed at the side of his neck smearing the lipstick stains on his skin until he was sure they wouldn’t be noticeable, but he knew they were there, and he was sure Lucian would know.

He didn’t deserve him; he didn’t deserve an immortal wolf man who was willing to spend a lifetime with him. He let out a dry laugh realizing just how insane it was that Lucian was willing to be with him until the end of his mortal life, he couldn’t even swear he’d live to see forty or beyond that, but either way Lucian was willing to stay loyally by his side like a damned dog. He rubbed at his forehead groaning in frustration. The love he always felt swelling in his chest when thinking about his partner just made him sick now, he didn’t deserve him or his love, he didn’t deserve everything that he had to offer in terms of support and affection. He knew how difficult all of this was for him, after everything that Lucian had lost over the hundreds of years, he’d been alive, he didn’t deserve a mortal fuck up like Peter.

When the lift came to a stop nearly knocking him on his ass the doors opened to reveal a couple on the other side who eyed him as if they were pitying him. He shoved past them and made his way through the lobby and out into the cold late-night air. He drew in a deep breath hoping to sober himself up the slightest bit as he reached into the pocket of his jacket and fished out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter, he stuck one between his lips lighting the tip and taking in a long draw from it, he released the smoke into the air watching it swirl and disappear as it rose into the night sky. He wished that he could disappear sometimes like that, he’d wished it when he’d been a child listening to his mom and dad being ripped to shreds by vampires. He began his walk home as thoughts of that night assaulted his mind. He’d spent so long being convinced it wasn’t real, by instinct he’d lied and said it was intruders, but in therapy sessions for the first few years he’d sworn up and down that monsters had invaded their home and torn his family to shreds. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he thought about the empty caskets at the funeral, his uncle’s hand on his shoulder, that emptiness he’d felt in his gut as he watched their empty caskets being lowered into their graves.

His worst fear was that they were out there, that one day he’d come across them as something less than human. He rubbed at his eyes with his free hand, he took another drag from his cigarette focusing more on the burn of the smoke as he held it in his lungs before letting out a long shaky breath. 

He felt it unfair that Lucian knew none of this, but he couldn’t help that. He didn’t want him to know, he liked him thinking he was just some narcissistic moron who just liked to spend all of his time drunk and oblivious to everything. Bad enough he had never asked Lucian about his own pain and trauma, he hated himself for how long it had taken to get to that point. All the times he’d traced the patterns on that golden medallion Lucian always wore around his neck without ever realizing it had once belonged to the first woman he ever loved. He knew he couldn’t ever live up to Sonja, could never meet or surpass those memories or the love he’d held for her, but he could meet one thing; he could die and make Lucian suffer with the grief of it. He hated that. He didn’t want him being sad or alone, he didn’t want him wandering the Earth slaying vampires and being some brooding bad ass anarchist raising chaos wherever he went, always alone at the end of the day. He wanted to love him, he wanted to give him everything he deserved, but to be quite frank he wasn’t sure what that was. He wasn’t sure how to provide that and he knew that coming home stinking drunk and with smeared lipstick on his neck wasn’t it.

He prayed he wouldn’t be home, he hoped he’d be out taking a run somewhere in his wolf form, hunting vampires or checking in on stray lycans who were without a pack just like him. Peter wasn’t sure he could deal with his own guilt if Lucian were home, he wasn’t sure he could deal with a talk or that “I’m not mad I’m just disappointed” schtick. 

His head was spinning by the time he reached his flat, he had a moment of considering walking past until an older man held the door open for him. He stumbled into the building, made his way to the lift, and planned out what would happen as he went up to the penthouse. He prayed over and over again that his flat would be empty, that he could just maybe cap himself off with a bit of absinth and then pass out in a puddle of his own sick somewhere. 

Unfortunately, God gave up on Peter many years ago, as he struggled to fit his key into the lock the door opened, and he nearly collapsed into the solid figure standing on the other side. He giggled as he placed a hand against Lucian’s shoulder steadying himself, he could barely make out the lycan’s face, but he could feel that concern and disappointment as he wrapped an arm around Peter’s waist and guided him into their flat.

“What’re you doing home?” Peter asked as he leaned against his side.

“I was hoping you’d come right home after your performance, but you didn’t, so I assumed you went drinking, and I was apparently correct in that thinking.” He said as he led him to the black leather sofa.

Peter collapsed onto the sofa, he looked up at the other man trying his hardest to make out just how disappointed he was.

“Sorry love, but I-I was going to come home….I just y’know some fans and the girls from the show wanted to have a bit of an after party, told them only one drink, but y’know how that goes.” He said laughing to himself as he rubbed a hand down over his face.

Lucian took a seat next to him keeping a small bit of distance between them.

“You smell like booze and cheap perfume.” He observed as he looked him over.

Peter turned to face him, he reached out petting his fingers through long curling brown hair that he adored. “Sorry, I swear nothing happened.” He muttered as he stroked his fingers along the side of his neck, Lucian grabbed his wrist moving his hand away from him.

“Peter I….I’ll get you to bed, we can discuss this in the morning.”

“Why not now, why can’t we talk now? It’s not a big deal y’know, I always drink.” He protested moving closer to him until he was practically on his lap.

Lucian held his face in his hands forcing him to look at him, forced him to see the concern in his blue eyes. “Peter, I love you, I told you a year ago that I would never do anything with you while you’re inebriated. I’m not mad at you, I’m-“

“Disappointed?” 

“Scared”

“Why?”

“Let’s just go to bed, in the morning we can talk, okay?”

Peter nodded, he swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat that urged him to cry despite the fact he refused to. He was compliant as Lucian pulled him up from the couch and lead him back to their bedroom where he helped him undress and get into his sleep pants and tank top and into bed. Once under the covers the lycan curled up behind him, a strong arm wrapped around his waist holding him tightly as if he was terrified of letting him go for even a second. Peter allowed himself to quietly cry until he fell into a drunken sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Lucian didn’t sleep at all through the night. He kept Peter close against him, kept a hand against his chest to feel his steadily beating heart. He knew that the likelihood of Peter dying in his sleep was astonishingly low, but the fear had still been there. He of course was angry that his boyfriend would come home in such a miserable state, smeared lipstick on his neck, wreaking of a woman’s discount perfume, and so drunk that he could hardly focus his eyes on him. Yelling did no good though, he’d learned that quickly that yelling at Peter for doing these things did no good. He was drunk, he had issues with control and addiction, yelling would only push him further away and that was something that Lucian did not want. So he pretended to be calm, but while Peter slept he allowed himself to be scared and angry, allowed himself to think over every horrid thing that could have happened to him while he was god knows where with who knows how many strangers that were dying to take advantage of him.

He did notice that lately it had been getting worse, the drugs and the alcohol. He knew there had to be a root cause for it other than typical depression related moments of burying his emotions under booze and narcotics, this felt different, but he feared that pushing for answers would only drive Peter deeper into escapism and further from him.

He sighed heavily as he buried his face in his hair breathing in the scent of his shampoo. He loved him so much, he loved him more than any immortal creature should ever dare love a human being. He loved him nearly as much as he’d loved Sonja, but it was unfair and cruel to ever try to compare the love he felt for Peter to love he’d felt for her. This was different, but the same in many ways that pained him to think about. Still he knew some day that Peter would die, and it was nights like these that made him face that fact head on, a fact that scared him. Every moment they were together Peter was aging, despite still only being his 30s he was growing older, sooner than later he would be 40 and then eventually, hopefully he’d make it to 50. Then it would go from there, if they were that lucky. 

Peter grunted in his sleep, he awkwardly rolled over to face him, burying his face against his chest as he flopped an arm across his side. Lucian held him closely, stroked his fingers through his hair and realized there was always an option to keep him from dying, from growing old, or dying of sickness. 

No, he wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t even breathe a word of it to him. He knew how Peter felt about supernatural beings, vampires at least, the idea of being something like that, he felt deep down that that feeling would extend to lycans as well. The last thing he ever wanted was to scare him off, to make him scared of him. He would hate himself for eternity if Peter ever found reason to fear him.

He wondered about what to do in the morning. He already knew he’d wake before Peter; he’d make breakfast for the both of them, Peter would wake around noon or later, take a long bath, and then quietly eat his breakfast while avoiding talking about any of this. He knew there was something wrong, there was something that Peter wasn’t sharing that was bothering him and had been bothering him for years before Lucian knew him. It did of course hurt not to know what was hurting the man that he loved, but he didn’t want to force him to share that side of himself if he wasn’t yet ready. He swore to himself he’d remain as patient as he possibly could, but events like tonight made that difficult. Seeing him so incredibly drunk and knowing he’d at least done something with another person was painful, a rational person would probably end things, but that wasn’t an option as far as he was concerned. He’d lived for hundreds of years, he’d seen many mortals drown their problems in illicit affairs and booze, Peter was mostly faithful. He knew anything he did to harm them was from his own self-destructive behavior as if he didn’t deem himself worthy of being loved.

“I swear I’ll love you forever, despite how horribly stubborn you are.” He gently promised as he stroked his fingers through soft locks of light brown hair.

He’d nearly forgotten over the years of loneliness juts how complex and painful love could be, especially when that love came with a ticking time clock.


End file.
